When I was in 6th grade, my mom bought me presents to give to my teachers for Teacher Appreciation Week. They were thoughtful gifts: pretty notepads and chocolates, wrapped up in rose wrapping paper. She bought enough for me to give one to my classroom teacher and one to each of my enrichment teachers, plus one extra in case I got to school and realized we’d forgotten someone. I was very proud to hand them out because she’d made them so nice.

After giving a gift to my classroom teacher, Mrs. McRae, I asked if I could go deliver my other parcels around the school. Each delivery was met with such gratitude. I could tell the little presents made the teachers feel appreciated. Finally, I walked along the sunny corridor by the media center with the one extra present left in my hand. It seemed a waste not to give it to anyone, so I rifled through a list of my teachers and administrators in my mind. Should I give it to the principal? to the floating Spanish teacher? to the computer teacher?

The computer teacher’s face flicked through my mind. Mrs. Thorn had a reputation for being strict and snappy. My classmates dreaded filing into the door of the computer lab, since Mrs. Thorn doled out punishments as often as word processing skills. She had never been upset with me personally, but the anxiety about her was contagious. As I pondered her reputation, I realized that she probably had not gotten a single Teacher Appreciation Week gift. I certainly wouldn’t have thought to bring her a present. I looked down at the one in my hand.

The media center doors swished open quietly and I found Mrs. Thorn where I knew she’d be: winding up mic cords after managing the school news broadcast that morning. I’ll never forget the surprise and joy on her face when I said, “Happy Teacher Appreciation Week, Mrs. Thorn!” while holding out my rose-covered package. She wrapped me in a giant hug and blinked back tears as she thanked me and admired the gift. My heart swelled and I nearly floated out of the media center and back to class, reflecting on the miracle I’d just witnessed.

For the rest of the year, Mrs. Thorn and I were inseparable. I realized that she was strict, but she was also wonderful, with a wry sense of humor and a passion for technology. I was always in the computer lab to help with whatever issue she was troubleshooting at the moment. Or to play MathBlaster. Those giant hugs became a regular part of my school day, and Mrs. Thorn became my favorite teacher. After my 6th grade graduation, she blinked back tears again, giving me a bright red t-shirt she’d bought me as a gift and posing for a last photo together before I left for the summer. She still is one of my favorite teachers ever. I’ll never forget the lesson she taught me: that sometimes taking the exact opposite action than the one you feel like taking can totally change a situation.

Try it. Apologize when you feel like staying sullen. Forgive when you feel like holding a grudge. Go to the gym when you feel like staying home. Give a hug to the person you feel like strangling.

We’ve been talking about unexpectedly arriving in Holland — a metaphor for dealing with detours along life’s path — and radical acceptance. Sometimes you need to accept your experience. But also, I thought it was time to talk about some ways you can change your experience. The fact is, our actions can change our (and others’) feelings. If you’re experiencing a feeling you want to change, acting opposite might be the answer.

* * *

What better way to celebrate our time in Holland than by indulging in a Dutch dessert? Roomboter Banketstaaf is a traditional Dutch Christmastime treat, and it made me fall in love with the Netherlands. Flaky, buttery pastry surrounds a creamy almond filling. I topped mine with a light almond glaze and sliced almonds, but the traditional treat is often topped with a sprinkling of powdered sugar. No matter how you dress it, this dessert (or breakfast, because I might have eaten the rest of it first thing this morning) is incredible.

Have you ever done the opposite of what you felt like doing to make a situation better?

Directions:
Place flour and salt in the bowl of a food processor and pulse to combine. Add cold chunks of butter and pulse 6-10 times to cut the fat into the flour. The butter should end up looking about the size of small peas. Add the water and process on low just until the dough rolls into a ball — don’t overprocess. (Note: You can also do these steps by hand in a large bowl using a pastry cutter or 2 knives to cut the fat into the flour and salt mixture, and then stirring in the water and forming a dough). Divide the dough into 4 discs on 4 sheets of plastic wrap. Wrap and chill for at least 30 minutes or so.

Use a hand or stand mixer to mix the almond paste, sugar, almond extract, and egg together in a large bowl. Blend until the mixture is mostly smooth.

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F and line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper. Roll each disc of chilled dough out on a lightly floured surface to a rectangle (about 12-inches by 3-inches). Spread 1-2 tablespoons of melted butter all over the surface of the dough. Take about 1/4 of your almond paste mixture and spread it in a log, leaving about a 1-inch border on all sides, down then center of your dough. Then, close the dough by folding over each end (using a brush to brush off excess flour as you go) and then folding up the sides, pinching to seal (and using a little melted butter as glue if needed). Place your little dough packet seam-side-down on a prepared baking sheet. Egg wash it with the beaten egg white and sprinkle on some sugar. Repeat this process with your other 3 discs.

Bake packets 15-20 minutes or until nice and golden brown. Let them cool on the baking sheet for around 5 minutes before transferring them (use two spatulas or one long one to ensure they won’t break) to a platter to finish cooling. As they cool, whisk together powdered sugar, milk, and almond extract to form a glaze. Drizzle the glaze and sprinkle the sliced almonds over each pastry. Slice and serve warm or room temperature.

Julie Ruble

Love your story {as always}! It’s so interesting how sometimes those who are deemed difficult or unpleasant might just be misunderstood. Your “opposite action” strategy is one I practice often! I discovered its power during a particularly difficult time in my life and, though it didn’t change the outcome of the situation, it made ME feel so much better about how I handled it. I am truly enjoying these introspective posts… free therapy AND dessert!

Thank you for sharing such a touching story. It’s greatly appreciated on a day like today. I substitute teach at the high school level and was called in for a full day … which turned out to only be for a HALF day. I found out when I arrived at the school and was pretty disappointed after the last minute call on the day after our first big snow dump of the season (8 inches). On top of that, I had a rather ‘challenging’ class which left me with a less than charitable feeling towards students but a moment of introspection arising from reading your post reminded me that each of these students have their own stories and lives and what I saw was not directed towards me personally. I’ll do my best to show an extra bit of kindness to my students between now and Christmas and hopefully, will make that one of my New Year’s resolutions.

I have only recently started using almonds in my cooking and after a great poached pear and frangipane tarte and a couple of batches of florentines recently am really enjoying the flavour. I hope to be able to try this pastry in the new year.

Julie Ruble

December 16, 2013 at 1:48 pm (1 year ago)

Aw, *hugs* on your hard day. Substitute teaching can be one of the most thankless jobs, but we teachers SO appreciate you and how difficult it is to be in your position. It’s generous of you to think to show the students extra kindness, especially during a hard day. Thinking of you!

By the way, your pear and frangipane tarte was beautiful (and the florentines, too.)

Anna

December 16, 2013 at 4:21 pm (1 year ago)

I love your story and the banketstaaf looks great!
I also like the Welcome to Holland metaphore. But umm, i’m Dutch what would my welcome to Holland be? Maybe welcome to Russia or something :).
And Holland isn’t that bad as long as we have banketstaaf

Julie Ruble

December 16, 2013 at 4:55 pm (1 year ago)

LOL, yes, Welcome to Russia, maybe! I just told someone on one of the previous posts that if I were Dutch, I’d be like, “But Holland SHOULD be your primary destination, ’cause it’s awesome!” I agree that any place with Banketstaaf gets an A+ in my book. I for one would love to visit!

Now this I could do.
Would you believe I still have a fear of making croissants?
I know!
I need to get over that!
But these I think I could do, and if I messed them up, I just just put more almonds and glaze on them!
LOL
I was a very lucky girl, my parents sent me to boarding school most of my life, and I did love it.
The teachers there were amazing; very passionate, very ahh, get you involved in what you’re learning so to speak.
I have fond memories of my teachers, and to this day stay in touch with a lot of them.

Julie, what a beautiful story (and made my former teacher’s heart grow ten sizes too big :)! I am going to try to take your advice, especially during the next week when holiday stress can get up in my face. Also, this pastry is just gorgeous. Love that flaky crust!

Dianne

January 8, 2015 at 7:46 pm (2 months ago)

I made some kolachkis on christmas and had some filling left over and was looking for a way to use up my left over almond and poppyseed filling. These turned out GREAT!! Love this recipe!! going to make it a staple!!

I think of Willow Bird Baking as one of the kindest spaces on the internet, and that means a lot to me. This isn't your average Facebook page. We have a lot of fun here and I think form great friendships chatting and laughing together. We listen and share. We joke. We disagree kindly. I ask a few things to keep it that way:

1. THINK before you speak. If you're going to say something critical, ask, "It is true, helpful, inspiring, necessary, kind?" It's okay to sometimes say the hard thing -- if the answers to these questions are yes.

2. Avoid reflexive comments just for snark's sake. It's so easy on the interwebz to make a "flounce" comment or to dismiss someone or something. Some people call these "zaps." Make it a point not to zap.

3. Please avoid "yucking someone else's yum." If someone loves hot dogs, please don't tell them you think hot dogs are gross. If someone thinks a topic is fun to chat about, please don't tell them you don't care about it. You can feel that way of course! But it isn't constructive to chime in just to say so. We all have different interests and think different things are fun/delicious/funny/fascinating. This is a space where we chat about everything from which way the toilet paper should hang on the roll (that was a pretty epic thread) to our favorite recipes to our relationships to our families. Come here for fun and friendship -- take what you want and leave what you don't. Always remember you can scroll on by without commenting if you aren't interested in something.